


offer me solutions (offer me alternatives)

by plinys



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombies, Crack, F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2014-12-31
Packaged: 2018-03-04 11:08:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3065636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plinys/pseuds/plinys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The 'again' goes unspoken, because Mack is dead right now, even if he looks like he's breathing and alive and like he’s somehow comprehending what Fitz is saying, he’s not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	offer me solutions (offer me alternatives)

**Author's Note:**

> Some "light hearted" zombie fic for the lovely Gwen, whose birthday it is today! You rock bae!

Fitz’s hands shake as he holds the gun out in front of him, saying words that he knows the other man can’t even hear or understand, “please don’t make me do this.”

He would rather die than do this, would rather become one of them than, have to put him down.

If there was anybody that should never have lasted this long in an apocalypse situation, Fitz was probably that guy. He was the least fit to survive, the least stable, the least willing to take the shot- and yet here he was ten months after the entire world had gone to shit, staring down the barrel of his gun at what was probably the end of the line.

“These are real bullets,” he says, more to himself than the zombie standing across from him, “if I take this shot,” if, not _when_ , “you’ll die.”

The _again_ goes unspoken, because Mack is dead right now, even if he looks like he's breathing and alive and like he’s somehow comprehending what Fitz is saying, he’s not.

Except there’s something there, a flicker of something that looks so much like the Mack he remembers, the Mack that would joke about installing flame throwers onto their vans (to better take out zombies) or kidnap Fitz away to a backroom with a salvaged Xbox to play _Left For Dead_ as though the real zombie apocalypse wasn’t happening mere miles out of their compound, who used to kiss him until he couldn’t think of any formulas or weapons or cures for incurable diseases.

And he knows that he can’t do this.

The gun clatters from his hands to the ground as he accepts his fate, closing his eyes and readying himself for what will probably be a very bloody and awful end.

Before he hears a voice, quiet and scratch from being forced out of a throat that hadn’t spoken in what must have been months, but it’s there, clear as day, “Turbo?”

\---

Now that he’s not being eaten he’s allowed himself to calm down a bit, recognize that what is going on before his eyes is something that he isn’t familiar with, a zombie that’s still clearly showing the signs of being sick and infected, but not acting like a brain dead murder machine.

It’s weird, but he finds he’s pleasantly surprised.

There’s also the fact that one of his former best friends (almost could have been something more) is sitting across from him, looking half-dead (literally) but slowly speaking again just like old times.

“You alright, Turbo,” he asks, and Fitz is pretty sure that if he wasn’t one of the most highly trained scientists in this field that he would have probably started crying.

“I don’t understand what’s going on,” Fitz confesses, “I’m happy, but I don’t-“

“You think it’s any clearer on this end?”

“I was honestly hoping it might be.”

He’s still hesitant to reach out and touch Mack, and his gun is back in his hands when his – when Mack – had insisted that he pick it up again in case he slipped back into the zombie mentality and Fitz had to do the deed once and for all.

(“I couldn’t shoot you- I would rather become one of those then do that. You- you have to know that, because I lo- I care about you.“

“Yeah well, I’d rather be dead than hurting you.)

“What if we could get you into the compound, down to the labs and have Jemma or Bobbi take a look at you,” Fitz says, _assuming they don’t freak and shoot,_ “we might be able to find something to cure this.”

“Yeah, sounds like a plan."

\---

“So remember when we were talking about possible cures for the zombie epidemic,” Fitz says, aiming for casual, “and you insisted that with proper proof of patients recovering that your could develop and antidote-“

“Anti-serum,” Jemma corrects, before nodding and saying, “but yes?”

“Well, what if I’ve found proof?”

“I thought you were working on weapons development not-“

“I am,” he replies, “weapons development- its developing, what I found is a bit less theoretical and mechanical and a bit more- more- uh- living- though to be honest living might not be the best word actually.”

“Fitz?”

“Yes?”

“You need to be a bit clearer than that.”

He pauses, eyes darting between Jemma and the door that he had just come through before saying, “promise you won’t freak out.”

This time when she says, “Fitz,” it’s with a far more concerned tone.

“Promise,” he insists.

“I’m not promising anything until you swear to me that there’s not something horrifying back there, like a zombie that you’ve captured or,” she pauses, taking in his suddenly pale visage, “no, _no,_ Fitz!”

“He’s not dangerous,” Fitz insists, stepping forward to stop Jemma from heading to the backroom, though her fingers have already reached down to the gun at her waist, “he’s like the opposite of dangerous.”

“There’s a _zombie_ in our apartment and you’re trying to tell me that everything is _okay?_ ”

“He’s not just any zombie,” and this is the part where he knew he would lose Jemma, she would look at him with those sad eyes of her and think that the only reason he’s doing this is because they knew each other before, not because he’d really discovered something.

Of course, Jemma knows what he means, because she’s already frowning and asking, “who is it?”

“I didn’t-“

“Mike? Idaho? Mack?” She stops talking then, something must show on her face because she reaches forward and pulls him into a hug, “I’ll call Bobbi, she’ll come over and put him down so you don’t-“

“Jemma, no, it’s not, he’s acting different than the rest,” Fitz insists, “this isn’t just me wanting him back, it’s you’ll see, if you just come with me and promise not to freak out.”

“I’d feel better if you’d let me call Bobbi,” Jemma confesses, but his distress over this idea is clear enough because a second later she says, “if he tries something, I’ll shoot.”

“I’m telling you Jemma, he’s perfectly fine watch,” he moves away from her then, to open the door to the backroom, where Mack has clearly been waiting to join their conversation.

“Hey Simmons, you and Bobbi sort out that wanting to make out in the lab thing?”

To be fair, Jemma only freaks out for the first fifteen minutes, before she puts that great mind of hers to use and helps them develop a plan.

\---

“How was your weekend?”

“Oh you know, perfectly normal,” Jemma says, her lie face terrible as always, “watched some old tv shows, made pancakes, Fitz brought a zombie home, watered the plants-“

“Fitz brought a _zombie_ home,” Bobbi cuts her off by repeating the part of the sentence that she was supposed to miss.

“Oh yeah, that happened,” she nods, “though it’s not a big deal, because apparently he’s not eating anybody, he’s just zones out a lot, but was also able to have a full conversation, so I’m not entirely sure what is going on with that.”

“Do you want me to-“

“No, no, no,” Jemma insists, “we’ve got everything under control, don’t worry.”

“It’s my job to worry about you?”

“That so?”

“You two are disgusting,” Fitz says, reminding them of his presence, “really disgusting.”

“Says the guy that wants to snog a _literal_ zombie.”


End file.
